Space, the lines on the paper
These are the scribbles of the Night Owl Poet
Her never-ending mission
To explore strange new words
To seek out new verse
And new split-infinitives
To boldly go where no poet has gone before

(Cue bizarre sounding music)

I fly through words, origins unknown
As I wander around my place
I’ve tried to use them all, you see
But they clutter up my space